Tender Paradox
by LeanaVine
Summary: After Leslie's "death" and sudden disappearance, Taylor can't stop thinking about him. She starts to have dreams about Leslie, and can't decide if she's stuck with the nightmares of the man who tried to kill her, or if she's clinging to dreams of a man she doesn't want to forget. (Warning of sex, pregnancy and possible violence and death. Leslie/Taylor. Slight Doug/Taylor.)


**A/N: **Brand new story. Woot woot. This is based off of the amazing movie _Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon_ which I discovered on accident a few weeks ago. I was walking into the living room to wake my mom up and make her come to bed, when I noticed that she was watching some kind of scary movie. After I had made her go to bed, I sat down and watched it (though I couldn't rewind it all the way to the beginning). It wound up being one of the best movies ever. I strongly recommend it. It's very _Paradise Lost_. "Paradise Lost? Found it."

As always, my views are not shared or expressed by any of the characters in this story or any of my other stories.

Anyway, I hope I portray the characters all right. So please lace your boots up kiddies, and read, review and enjoy.

* * *

And there it was. That shed with the tall, black pillar of smoke which reached the edge of the sky. The harvest moon was hardly able to shine through. Not that I would've been able to see much of it anyway. My eyes were so clogged with tears that all I saw was a blazing, orange blur. Doug was by my side now, and Dr. Halloran had somehow survived being stabbed with Leslie's sickle. But even so, through all of it, I felt an overwhelming amount of sorrow that I couldn't connect to Todd or any of the teenagers. This ache was coming from the resounding thoughts of, _'My God, I actually killed him. I killed Leslie. How could I do that? Why did I do it?'_

There was a good chance that Leslie wouldn't have been able to escape from that apple cider mill I had lodged his head in. I could've let him live so that the police could deal with him. He didn't have to die, at least not by my hand.

_'But it's what he wanted.'_

That thought comes to me often. Leslie knew all along that I was going to be his survivor girl, yet he still showed me everything, including the cider mill that he intended me to kill him with. To him, the whole process was meant to be a beautiful art form – a way of putting balance between good and evil. He was meant to be the villain that the heroine would prevail over. That's what he wished for – that's what he'd cried for.

When I think back to that moment, when Leslie cried and I held his hand, it makes me shudder. This was a brilliant man, who, in his own way, was beautiful and noble. He didn't fear death, because it was what his whole life had been leading up to. And I had been there to witness this man crumble for only a moment under the tremendous weight of what he was going to have to do. He was still happy, because, in a way, he was making the world right.

I'll have those nightmares often, remembering the night I stood and watched the shed burn. One of the locals sees the sky-high flames and calls 911. I don't move from that spot, even after firefighters and policemen arrive. Even when the police command me to lay down on the ground, I don't comply – I don't resist either. I just remain frozen, a melting ice sculpture too mesmerized by the heat of the towering blaze to turn away.

The police eventually have to tackle me down, handcuffing me. I don't fight back. I just close my eyes, actually grateful to have been saved by the sight of the fire. They drag me off to a squad car, making me sit in the back. And I stay in there for maybe ten minutes or an hour, I can't tell, before I see Doc Halloran explaining to the police what happened, and they pull me out of the car, taking the cuffs off me.

They begin to ask me questions, but I can't speak. I'm still frozen. Nothing they do or say even phases me. Doug tries to explain to them that I'm traumatized, and he lies saying we were at the party with the kids when Leslie showed up. This avoids the subject of us knowing him prior to the murders, and even more so, it avoids the video footage.

I'm finally led over to an ambulance, where I'm examined for any major injuries. It's then, as I'm sitting on the back of the truck, that I see it in the distance. Two men in dark jumpsuits are pushing a gurney, and on it is a body bag. They're coming from the shed, where most of the flames have been put out. I realize that Leslie is laying in that bag, and I begin screaming uncontrollably. I scream and scream, just staring at that body bag, and all I can think is, _'My God, I actually killed him. I killed Leslie. How could I do that? Why did I do it?'_

Each time I have the nightmare, just before I wake up, I hear a voice whisper softly to me, "I'm here." Then I'm quickly sitting up in my bed, sometimes screaming, but most of the time just panting and incredibly thirsty.

Doug told me that I needed to start seeing a psychiatrist or something, to help me cope with my nightmares. Part of me really wanted to talk to someone, but I knew that no one I ever talked to could possibly understand. The only person I could imagine being able to keep up with my story would be Doc Halloran, and I hadn't seen him since the memorial service held for all the teenagers killed that night.

* * *

Doug and I had gone to the service together. We were constantly getting strange looks, because no one knew how we were connected to their children who had died. There were some, you could tell, that had read about us in the local paper, about how Doug and I had been there that night, and that we were the only ones that survived, other than the Doc. Their anger was evident in their eyes.

During the service, I noticed Doc Halloran towards the back of the crowd, staring blankly at the small monument with all the teenagers' names and pictures. When the priest had finished talking, and people were walking up to lay white roses on the marker, I made my way over to Doc Halloran, who didn't acknowledge me even when I said his name.

I smiled at him sheepishly. "It's a beautiful service, isn't it?" I asked. When he said nothing, my smile faded and I cleared my throat. "I've been wondering how you've been, how you've been recovering. Actually, there were a few things I wanted to talk to you about-"

"You don't deserve to be alive," he said coldly, not even looking down at me yet. That put me into almost as much shock as his gaze, brooding and hard. Unforgiving. "You knew exactly what was going to happen, and you did nothing to stop it. You went along with it, _encouraged_ him. All of those innocent teenagers died, and you're alive. You don't deserve life. You should've been the one who died."

With that, he walked towards the small monument, placing his white flower with the others, then he walked away, hands in the pockets of his trench coat. Doug slowly approached me, putting a hand on my shoulder. Before he could ask what happened, I collapsed to the ground in tears, all my fears from that night now confirmed.

* * *

After Doug lied to the police, telling them we'd been at the party with Kelly and the others, Doc Halloran had pulled both of us to the side. He stared deep into my eyes first, then into Doug's. "Why did you lie? You were colleagues of Leslie's. You have evidence of the murders."

"Colleagues?" Doug asked, his temper fuming. "What the hell do you think you know? You have no idea who we are or anything that we've been through."

Doc's face didn't change. "You recorded it all, didn't you? You got everything that Leslie did on film?"

Doug was silent for a moment before answering, "We don't have any of the murders on tape, just a little bit of how he was before tonight. It's nothing that would help the police."

"You were there, that night in the library, weren't you?" Halloran's questions seemed to have no end. Doug was obviously frustrated, but his guilt was evident on his face. "If you turn over the footage to the police, they might be easier on you about your sentencing."

At that, Doug's eyes shot wide open. "Our sentencing? What the hell are you talking about?"

Without missing a beat, Halloran replied, "You're accomplices to murder. During the entire process, and all of the murders, you were there. You're just as damned as Leslie would've been." Doug was now so worried that he was gripping at his hair, mumbling profanity. "But if you admit to the police what you've done, and you give them the footage-"

"No," I said, looking up into Doc Halloran's icy pupils. Doug glanced at me, a bit shocked to not only be hearing me speak, but seeing me stand firm. "No one gets to see the tapes ever again." I looked to the befuddled Doug. "We'll destroy them."

Halloran crossed his arms. "And what makes you think I'll allow you to get away with that? Someone needs to be punished for what happened here tonight. There are consequences to face."

I turned back to Halloran, unwavering on the outside, shivering on the inside. "What about you? Would you face the consequences of _your _actions, Doctor Halloran?"

To this, Halloran let a bit of amusement show. "_My _actions? Such as how I was almost killed trying to prevent Leslie from slaughtering anyone else?"

"You knew what he was going to do, too," I retorted, fully confident in myself somehow. "You even warned us in the diner that Leslie was dangerous, and you knew that it was him that killed that librarian. You could've went to the police, but instead you followed Leslie alone. You're just as guilty as Doug and I. Who's to say that Doug and I didn't know what we were doing all along? Getting in close with Leslie, learning about his whole process, so that when he started to murder people, we ended him before he could go even further?"

And now, Halloran was silent, an obvious look of angered defeat on his face. For a moment, he was silent, then he leaned in close to me, murmuring, "Destroy the tapes, and never talk to me again." After that, he left. The memorial service was the last time I ever saw Halloran. Part of me thinks that he probably ran off to another country before the police could get suspicious of him. Maybe I should've done the same.

* * *

After the memorial service, Doug finally got up the nerve to ask me out on a date. His excuse was that he thought it would help clear my mind. As if he was doing me a big favor. But then again, this was Doug. Maybe acting a bit cocky helped combat his shyness.

Doug didn't try to kiss me until our second date. Yes, I went on a second date with him, but that's because the first date was take out and bad movie night. That felt more like something friends would do together, so I could hardly call it a date. The second date was fast food and bowling, which I thoroughly enjoyed, surprisingly.

When he walked me up the steps of my apartment building, he gave the classic line of, "I had a really good time," and slowly leaned in for a kiss. I didn't move at all, at least not until one of my neighbors came walking out, going straight past us, oblivious to the fact that we were about to share a kiss. I couldn't help but to double over laughing. I was a little scared that I might've offended Doug, but when I looked up at him, he was smiling at me sweetly, and he said, "It's nice to hear you laugh again."

It wasn't until the third date that I actually let Doug kiss me. He'd taken me out to some nice restaurant, and officially asked me to be his girlfriend. I'm not sure why, but it came as a shock to me. I should've been expecting it all along, but as I said before, the dates felt more to me like friends hanging out. I told him that I couldn't give him a definite answer yet.

He walked me up the steps of my building, and before I had the chance to say goodnight, he leaned down and kissed me, holding my jawbone in his left hand so that I couldn't run away. I didn't kiss back. Part of me really wanted to, just to make him happy, but I couldn't. When he pulled away from me, I couldn't look at him. I just said, "I'll call you tomorrow. Goodnight," and headed upstairs.

With the fourth date came a night at the cinema watching some raunchy romance movies and more attempts to kiss me from Doug. I receipted some of them, hoping that if I kissed back he would be satisfied enough to stop, but it only made him want more. Eventually, I just had to tell him that he was moving too fast, and that I wasn't ready yet. He said he understood, but it was obvious that he was disappointed. Maybe he intended for it to be obvious.

On the fifth date, there was more kissing, and asking permission to come up to my apartment. I knew this possibly meant sex, but that didn't have to condemn me to it. So, I allowed him to come upstairs with me. He wanted to make out on the couch, and I reciprocated his advances, just trying to keep my mind off of everything. I was honestly surprised when he guided my hand to his thigh, possibly gesturing to something else.

At that point, I had to move away, telling him that I wasn't ready for all of this yet.

His response was a loud groan and, "Well, this is too slow for me. What are you waiting for?"

"Well what the fuck is the big hurry?" I asked, peeved and curious. I never understood why everyone was always so anxious to get right to sex. Sex couldn't be that special, could it? I had to believe that if kissing Doug didn't feel right, then neither would having sex. "I'm sorry Doug, I just don't feel that strongly about you yet."

"Why should that have to matter?" he asked. He scooted closer to me, and I wished that my sofa was just a little longer so I could inch away from him. "Don't you remember what Eugene and Jamie said? Not to hang around a virgin?"

"Don't talk about them," I said in a hushed voice. I was firm, just frightened to be drug back to that part of my life. But who was I trying to fool? I relived those moments every day.

Doug sighed, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Didn't you ever wonder why Leslie didn't kill me either? He could've easily cut my throat open, but instead he just knocked me out." I was just remembering this for the first time, and I glanced at Doug curiously. "Taylor, Leslie knew that I was a virgin too. That's why he didn't kill me." He pulled me close to him, and I felt a creepy, crawling feeling down my back. "Maybe he didn't kill either one of us so that we could…you know, get that _taken care of _together."

I jumped up from the couch, turning back to look at him in utter disgust. "Don't try to justify what you want with what you think Leslie wanted. You have no idea what Leslie wanted. You can't just use him like that!"

Doug gave a confused and frustrated look. "_Use _him? Tay, he used _you. _He used all of us. He was a fucking killer, Taylor. Why are you defending him?"

I crossed my arms, looking away from him. "Get out," I said quietly. This wasn't something I wanted to debate with him, and I wouldn't be questioned about feelings I didn't even understand myself.

He left in a huff, storming out. Part of me wondered if I would ever see him again. Half of me thought I might've made a big mistake. The rest of me didn't care.

So, I went on with my nightly routine. First, a shower which I sometimes cried during, but not that night. Then, I dressed and curled up in my bed, turning on my TV and VCR. Rewinding the tape that was always in the VCR now took about five minutes. In that time, I would pull out my phone to check for voicemails or emails. I did have a text from Doug, but I decided to ignore it.

When the tape was ready, I put my phone to the side, curling up in my blankets and pressing play. You might've guessed that the tape I watch is the one we recorded of Leslie, and you'd be right. Doug thought I'd burned the tapes, but instead, I'd compounded them all into a single VHS tape for easier viewing. Of course, all the originals had been destroyed, but I still had this tape with everything.

Seeing how Leslie acted before the murders was somehow a comfort that made it a little easier to face my nightmares about him each night. Yes, I had considered that the nightmares could be stemming from my nocturnal ritual of watching recordings of Leslie every night, but I had come to the conclusion that I didn't care. Seeing who I knew Leslie really was helped me to be strong enough to face that burning shed every night. But it also made it harder to look at that body bag.

That night, I wondered why exactly I felt as if I couldn't give myself to Doug. It wasn't because he was jerk – he hadn't become a jerk until I denied him again. Then I thought about how he reacted when I defended Leslie. Could it have been that Doug was jealous of the man who had almost killed me?

Yes, it was true that I had some sort of obsession with Leslie, but Doug didn't know that. So was there something else there that I couldn't see? Something that made Doug want to hurry to make me his own before Leslie could do so?

That was a night that I hardly paid attention to the recordings. My thoughts ventured towards a door of my mind that I had welded shut long ago. What exactly were my feelings towards the man that I had killed? Leslie had been kind to me, despite choking me once or twice and trying to kill me. He was such an enthusiastic man, excited to be a part of something so much bigger than himself.

He had marked me as his "survivor girl" without me even knowing it. Leslie had known that I was a virgin. As he was dying, he'd said, "I knew you were the one." I often contemplated that. Was that meant as he knew I would be the one to kill him and complete his dance of death, or was it meant in a much more deadly, romantic way?

These were the thoughts that had me saying no to Doug. The thoughts that possibly Leslie had not only marked myself as his own, but my virginity as well. It was possible that my virginity, the ultimate gift I could bestow to someone, was meant for Leslie all along. Perhaps that was why it didn't feel right for me to give it away, because it wasn't mine anymore to lose.

I hated Leslie for doing this to me, for filling me with these defiling thoughts. I hated him even more for making me kill him. Even so, as I lay in bed that night, the realization came to me that I would never be able to stop wanting him, that my feelings for him were strong enough and dumb enough to see past the fact that he had tried to kill me. My feelings saw that Leslie helped me to be born again, into this new person that was left now to only wait on him when he would never be coming back.

* * *

I called Doug the next day to make up with him and invite him out for coffee. He acted a bit distant at first, but when he saw I bore no grudges towards him, he visibly relaxed in front of me. He sipped his caramel macchiato while I stared down into my cup of warm green tea.

Without me even having to say anything about it, Doug could tell that something was on my mind. He reached out slowly to put a hand on mine, and I looked up into is concerned eyes. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

I smiled a little, then looked away from him with a sigh. "I'm moving." Might as well just come out with it.

Doug was taken aback by my statement, I could tell. "What? Why? To where?"

My smile faded, and a frown tugged at the corners of my mouth, but I fought back against it. Without looking up at him, I replied, "I'm never going to be able to forget about what happened as long as I stay here. I've learned that I can't move on until I _move _on." I chuckled a little, though it wasn't funny. "I hope you won't be mad at me, or think that it's your fault." Finally, I looked up into those hurt eyes of his. "I just have to go. I can't stay here and still expect to come to peace with everything."

"Where will you go?" he asked, his voice calm other than the fact that it was a bit shaky. Then again, Doug's hand trembled ever so slightly on mine.

"I think I'll go to Washington State. It's supposed to always be rainy there. I love the rain." I smiled at him reassuringly. "It's calming to me."

Doug looked a bit crushed, but not entirely, like an egg dropped on the floor and shattered completely on one side but not leaking yoke yet. "Am I going to get to see you again?"

I turned my eyes back down to the table, sighing a short laugh. "Don't be so melodramatic," I replied. "We could always fly out to see each other sometime." I paused for a moment before looking back up at him again. "But, I won't be ready for that for a while. I don't want to start making progress towards forgetting about Leslie and then see your face and start thinking about that night all over again."

He looked slightly disappointed, but he nodded in understanding. He stood to hug me across the table. "I wish you the best of luck with your new life." I closed my eyes, hugging him back, because he sounded genuine, and I wanted to savor something that was real. In such a quiet, pained voice he shuddered, "I wish I could come with you. I want to forget too."

In that moment, I had never felt so selfish for not ever considering that Doug might've been trying to force himself on me in an effort to rid himself of all the hurt he'd suffered. I'd lost Leslie, but Doug had lost Todd, his best friend. I gripped tight onto his shoulders, suppressing my tears. "I'll come back for you. I promise." What kind of promise it was, though, I wasn't sure.

* * *

**A/N: **So, how about it? What do you guys think? I'm already planning out the next chapter, so expect to see an update on this soon.


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